Wang Chen had no idea what thoughts stirred within Mo Huyan's mind.

Even if he had known, he would not have cared.

At this moment, he stood at the most critical threshold of his entire comprehension of reincarnation.

Time flowed onward like an endless river.

The scenery around him shifted imperceptibly. Mountains eroded, plains formed, and invisible currents of resentment continued to sweep across the first floor of the Tower of Infinite Enlightenment. The chilling air never warmed, and the distant howls of resentment ghosts never ceased. Yet none of it reached Wang Chen's awareness.

He remained unmoving.

In the blink of an eye, another fifty thousand years passed.

By then, Wang Chen had been in meditation for a total of one hundred thousand years.

A span long enough for entire civilizations to rise from dust, flourish in glory, and vanish without leaving a trace.

The world remained unchanged—except for one thing.

The Wisdom Rune suspended before him had nearly exhausted itself. Its once-vibrant glow had faded into a pale ember, the runes on its surface cracking like dried earth. Slowly, silently, it began to crumble, dissolving into countless motes of light.

Wang Chen raised his hands.

The fragments drifted down like falling snow, weaving through his fingers before dispersing into the surrounding void. A faint, serene smile appeared on his face—calm, unhurried, devoid of triumph or relief.

Just acceptance.

A voice echoed within his consciousness.

[Congratulations, Host. You have fully comprehended the cycle of reincarnation.]

[You have obtained the qualification to break free from the shackles of mortality.]

The suffocating chaos that had once plagued his mind was gone.

In its place remained only stillness.

A tranquil clarity possessed by one who had seen birth and extinction, individuality and dissolution, eternity and return—yet no longer feared any of it.

If Wang Chen had once merely acted like an ancient expert, then now, in truth, he had become one.

Everything had unfolded exactly as he anticipated.

The process had been brutal. The time investment was absurd. Yet in the end, he had achieved what he set out to do.

The only thing he had not foreseen—

Was that in unraveling reincarnation, he would also glimpse the origin of life itself.

A truth so vast that it reshaped his understanding of existence.

Wang Chen let out a soft breath.

Fate… truly works in mysterious ways.

Wang Chen murmured softly to himself, the corner of his lips curling upward into a faint, tired smile. He turned his head and fixed his gaze directly ahead—toward a patch of space that seemed empty at first glance. But if one looked carefully, a vague outline of a figure could be discerned, standing quietly beyond the veil of perception.

Of course, it was Mo Huyan.

Wang Chen had noticed her presence long ago. Her aura was subtle, almost nonexistent, yet impossible to truly hide from him now. As such, he showed no surprise.

Without hesitation, he straightened his posture and performed a full ninety-degree bow, his movements solemn and sincere.

"Thank you… for everything," he said quietly. "I may never be able to repay the kindness you have shown me."

The space rippled gently, like water disturbed by a falling leaf. Mo Huyan stepped forward, her figure fully materializing. She looked exactly the same as she had hundreds of thousands of years ago—unchanged, untouched, as if time itself had simply chosen to ignore her existence.

Wang Chen was already accustomed to this. He merely shrugged helplessly and turned his attention elsewhere.

Now that his objective had been achieved, there was no reason to remain within this palace any longer. Staying here served no purpose.

Leaving was the priority.

Clearing the first floor no longer took effort. What once required caution and patience now took only a few hours. The resentment ghosts scattered like frightened insects, powerless to resist. They could do nothing but await their end as Wang Chen passed through, harvesting them with calm efficiency.

At this point, the first floor posed no threat whatsoever.

It had become nothing more than a training ground.

---

Tap. Tap.

Soft footsteps echoed lightly through the air, accompanied by clear, melodic laughter.

Fang Zhirou darted across the courtyard, chasing after a butterfly with childlike delight, her laughter ringing freely. Nearby, Fang Biyu practiced her sword forms with a wooden blade, her expression focused and composed. Each swing was deliberate, steady, filled with quiet determination.

Standing beside her was a woman radiating fierce pride—Ming Yao.

For reasons even Wang Chen couldn't fully explain, Ming Yao had taken a liking to Fang Zhirou. She had become the girl's personal tutor, guiding her cultivation with unexpected patience. When Wang Chen first learned of this arrangement, he had merely smiled, offering no objection.

Under the Bodhi Tree, Demon Queen Zi Han sat in meditation. She spent most of her days there now, rarely leaving its shade, her presence blending harmoniously with the ancient tree's quiet wisdom.

Li Mei had not emerged since Wang Chen gave her the guidance she sought. He suspected she would only reappear after breaking through to the Golden Core Realm.

Everything was exactly as he had left it.

And yet—

Wang Chen's eyes carried a trace of exhaustion, a fatigue that went deeper than the body.

He wanted to rest.

But the world would not allow it.

The most talented cultivator within the Garden of Eternity might not have much time left to live.

Rest is for the weak anyway, he thought calmly.

And he, Wang Chen, was not weak.

Without disturbing anyone, without announcing his return, he quietly sat down cross-legged once more—his presence blending seamlessly into the rhythm of the dojo, as if he had never left at all.

With his eyes tightly closed, Wang Chen's consciousness drifted inward, plunging deep into the vast spiritual space within him.

The Garden of Eternity unfolded before his senses like a living world.

Much had changed.

The once-mighty Heaven Reidering Empire was long gone, its banners reduced to dust and memory. In its place, multiple regional powers had risen, carving the land into spheres of influence through blood, ambition, and innovation. The era of imperial dominance had ended—replaced by an age of ruthless pragmatism.

Spiritual beasts, once revered and feared, had nearly been hunted to extinction for their dantians. Forests that once echoed with roars and shrieks now lay eerily silent. This devastation, however, had birthed a new kind of power.

A sect emerged—cold, methodical, and terrifyingly intelligent.

Rather than hunt spiritual beasts to oblivion, they chose to domesticate them. Through controlled breeding, experimentation, and refinement, they sought to cultivate the perfect dantian. This radical innovation reshaped the balance of power almost overnight.

The sect called itself the Seven Hand Divine Sect—a force founded upon research, experimentation, and the relentless pursuit of truth. Under their rule, the Garden entered a new era—one governed not by brute strength, but by calculated knowledge.

Wang Chen spent several months quietly observing, absorbing, and understanding the political and ecological changes within the Garden. He neither interfered nor judged.

Then, his attention shifted.

His gaze moved away from the shifting powers and fell upon the boundary at the far reaches of the Garden—where a fragile, flickering form hovered in unstable suspension.

Ni Lua.

The special soul construct trembled weakly, its form fractured, barely maintaining cohesion—hovering on the very edge of collapse.

Thankfully, I didn't stop to rest, Wang Chen thought gravely. Another delay, and he might not have survived.

At that moment, a sharp, joyful cry echoed through the Garden.

"Cukko! Cukko!"

A streak of blazing color descended from the sky. The Ancient Phoenix of Fate, Rina, came hurtling toward him like a comet of pure excitement. Wang Chen barely had time to open his eyes before the fluffy little creature slammed into his chest.

A warm laugh escaped him as he instinctively caught her.

Rina chirped happily, rubbing against him with overflowing affection, her tiny wings fluttering uncontrollably.

"Easy, easy," Wang Chen chuckled, holding her close. "I know you missed me."

At his words, Rina's little head bobbed obediently, her eyes shining with delight.

For some inexplicable reason, the merciless flow of time within the Garden of Eternity had no effect on her whatsoever. While eras rose and fell, Rina remained unchanged—pure, lively, and untouched.

Wang Chen gently stroked her head as she chirped excitedly, recounting her experiences in rapid, animated bursts.

As he listened, his expression slowly twisted into something… oddly conflicted.

"…So," he said after a pause, tone uncertain, "you were recognized as the Divine Beast of the Seven Hand Divine Sect…"

"And they built temples to worship you?"

Rina leapt from his arms and perched proudly on his shoulder, puffing out her chest. With unmistakable confidence, she nodded.

Wang Chen stared ahead in silence.

"…I see."

He certainly wasn't ready for this development, Who could have thought while he turned his focus away for slight moment, his daughter was actually being worshipped as a divine being and by such a cold and calculative sect.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.